


Lightbulb

by smol_bird



Series: Lightbulb [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A lot of talk about corpses too, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, M/M, Online Friendship, Superfamily (Marvel), Texting, Way too many lightbulb jokes, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smol_bird/pseuds/smol_bird
Summary: wHY THE HELL ARE YOU TEXTING STRANGERS AT 2 AM WITH LIGHTBULB JOKES?!I’ll do you one better: why the hell are you responding to strangers who text you at 2 am with lightbulb jokes?---The one in which Peter Parker was brought up not to talk to strangers but does it anyway; and hey, it's not like it goes too badly.





	Lightbulb

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest one-shot I have probably ever written, and yet this is about the first time I write these characters, do you see my problem? (aka, I hope this isn't too OOC).

11/22, 02:17

**How many flies does it take to screw in a lightbulb?**

_Uh._

_Ned?_

_Also, I don’t know, how many?_

**Two, but nobody knows how they got in there.**

**Who’s Ned?**

_Okay that was funny. Also, I’m assuming you’re Ned, because otherwise a random stranger is texting me at 2 in the morning with lightbulb jokes._

_Wait, MJ?_

**No, no, go with the stranger assumption. Also, what sort of a name is MJ anyways??**

_wHY THE HELL ARE YOU TEXTING STRANGERS AT 2 AM WITH LIGHTBULB JOKES?!_

**I’ll do you one better: why the hell are you responding to strangers who text you at 2 am with lightbulb jokes?**

_..._

_Got me there._

_Goodnight._

**NO NO NO WAIT I HAVE ANOTHER ONE**

_And I have physics homework. Bye._

**How many physicists does it take to change a light bulb?**

_Two, one holds the bulb and the other rotated the universe, I’ve heard that joke when I was like four._

**Aw you’re no fun. How old are you anyways? I don’t wanna be making jokes about flies fucking to a baby.**

_Why the hell would I tell a stranger my age?!_

**My name is Wade, I’m twenty, there you go, no longer strangers. So?**

_Goodnight._

**You’re heartless >.>**

**Hey, you still there??**

**Fine**

**Goodnight**

***

11/23, 09:24

**How many Heisenbergs does it take to change a lightbulb?**

**Can’t tell. If you know the number, you won’t know where the socket is.**

_Do you even know what that joke means?_

**Hey, I went to high school, I’m not an idiot.**

**Okay, vaguely.**

**But that was funny.**

...

**C’mon, talk to me, I’m bored!**

_Here’s an idea, maybe pester your actual friends?_

**Friends? Ha! I thought I’m the one making jokes here!**

_Oh please, I’m sure you have friends._

**Yeah, an old blind woman whose house I live in. Also a taxi driver, can’t forget the taxi driver.**

**He gives me discounts.**

**Well, more like I make him give me discounts.**

**I gave him a crab once though, so I think we’re even.**

_You gave him a crab?.._

**Oh hey, so you are reading this!**

**Yeah, I did. It was a cool crab but he deserved it.**

_Was it alive?_

**Well of course. Paying people in crustacean corpses would be weird.**

**Now actual corpses...**

_I feel like that would create much more problems._

**I mean, learning to dispose of bodies is one of the most useful life lessons one can ever learn, so I’ll have to politely disagree.**

_...Okay that’s weird._

**Is it?**

**Well, since clearly nobody taught you, the best way to dispose of a corpse is to basically chop it into small bits and feed it to the pigs. Make sure to remove teeth/hair first though.**

**Second best is dissolving it in sulfuric acid but that’s a bitch and would take a lot of acid.**

**And I mean of course you can always go for the classic “dump them in the lake” move, but it’s easier to get caught.**

_Can we please not talk about corpses?_

**Okay, sorry, what do you wanna talk about then?**

_Nothing! I just want to play attention to my class, thank you very much!_

**Fine, jeez, snappy much?**

**I’ll text you in the afternoon!**

***

11/25, 16:45

**Hey I just realized I don’t know your gender**

**Like I figured you’re at the very least a high school junior because you get my very sophisticated physics jokes, but I can’t just keep referring to you in my head as “the lightbulb stranger”**

**So what is it? Boy, girl, neither, both?**

_Boy._

**Cool, me too!**

**Well, I mean, I guess you’d assume that from Wade, but always good to clarify. I shall now refer to you as “the lightbulb guy”.**

**Unless you wanna give me your name? That’d make it easier.**

**But no pressure.**

_Yeah, how about not._

_Why are you even still texting me??_

**Because you didn’t tell me to piss off yet, duh.**

**Which is a record frankly speaking, I mean, usually I get people telling me to go fuck myself after a third text.**

_I’m polite like that._

**Well, as long as you know your options.**

**Hey, how many computer scientists does it take to change a lightbulb?**

_1) Do you know anything apart from lightbulb jokes and 2) I have homework, I don’t have time for this._

**Dude you’re no fun! You just got out of school, what homework? Also, I know plenty of stuff, but lightbulb jokes are just our thing, y’know?**

_I don’t even know you. We don’t have a ‘thing’._

**And yet you still respond to me. Paradox.**

**None, that is a hardware issue.**

_I know a great deal of computer scientists who absolutely love messing with hardware so I have to disagree with you here._

_Hell, my dad would not only change the lightbulb, he would upgrade it to change colors at command and play a different theme song each time someone different enters the room._

_That is, if our lightbulbs ever need changing. I start suspecting they’re eternal._

**Do tell more.**

_No, no, that’s enough. Can I please do some work now?_

**I strongly maintain my position: you are a massive nerd. Good luck with work.**

***

11/26, 07:36

**Good morning! I hope you slept well!**

_Oh, are we still doing this?_

**I mean, you didn’t tell me to fuck off yet. So how was your night? Dreamt of anything?**

**Also don’t try to make excuses about lessons, it’s Saturday.**

_…I slept fine, thank you. You?_

**Well, I never really sleep if I can help it, which is why I text strangers at 2am, so not much. I totally learned how to solve a Rubik’s cube though.**

_That’s cool! I can do it, but kinda slow, what, two minutes._

**Quit showing off, two minutes is nothing >.> When did you learn? **

_Idk, at like fifteen._

**So you ARE older than 15, good! Fly fucking jokes are totally legal!**

_I don’t think there is a law which prohibits you from telling mature jokes to minors. If there were, my dad would be paying so many fines._

**Oh, thaaaat is why you’re desensitized to my sense of humor. Your dad sounds like a cool guy.**

_Yeah, he’s pretty neat._

**‘Neat’, okay, now I am concerned you may be significantly over fifteen. That’s like 90-year-old speak.**

_I picked it up from my father xD_

_I mean_

_Uh_

**The same one who makes mature jokes??**

_No, the other one_

**Oh, cool.**

**Wait, was that sarcasm?**

**Sarcasm doesn’t translate well over text**

**Apart from in my case, because you should automatically assume anything I say is sarcasm unless otherwise suggested.**

**Sarcasm is my first language.**

_No, no, it wasn’t. I, for one, only learned sarcasm when I was about six._

**Okay, cool. Aw, you’re trying to make jokes! I appreciate it.**

_Fuck you, I can make jokes. I can make all the jokes._

**Oh really? Try me.**

_Nah, maybe later. I’m eating breakfast._

**Eating breakfast at 11am? See, you’re my kind of guy!**

_It’s always appropriate time for breakfast._

**HA IN YOUR FACE AL**

**(That’s the woman I live with. She takes issue with my breakfast habits. Nothing else. Just my breakfast habits.)**

_Is there something else about you she needs to be taking issue with?.._

***innocent whistling***

_I’m starting to suspect you’re a serial killer, what, with all the vague hints and the overly-detailed corpse disposal techniques. Anyhow, I’ve got an omelet to eat and father is glaring at dad and I because we’re both on our phones. Talk to you later._

**Aw you wanna talk to me later! That’s cute!**

**Later, lightbulb boy.**

_Jesus Christ it’s Peter._

**Oh**

**Sweet!**

**Later, Petey-pie!**

_…I regret this decision immediately._

***

12/02, 16:33

**Hey Peter, what do you want to be when you’re older?**

_Well, I’m planning on maybe doing aeronautical engineering, actually, and see if I can minor in machine learning or something alongside it. Why?_

**I’m still looking for ideas**

**But your nerd stuff isn’t for me, that’s for darn sure :p**

_What do you wanna be then?_

_Are you in college yet? You said you’re twenty._

**Who has time for college?**

**Dunno, an assassin probably. They earn an awful lot for very little.**

**It doesn’t even have to involve murders, god knows I can just scare people half to death.**

**My second option would’ve been a stripper, but that’s out of question for reasons.**

_Reasons? What reasons?_

_You seem to have an unhealthy obsession with murdering people, Wade. I’ll be really disappointed if you end up being a serial killer, I was starting to like you._

**Aw you were? That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, Petey! I may need to rethink my career choices now. What do you think about a superhero?**

_Alright, ignore my questions._

_Being a superhero would be really cool I guess_

_But we don’t get much supervillains in our world, so the closest you can be to that is a policeman probably._

**Ah hell no I’m not going anywhere near the force!**

**Not to say they would have anything to arrest me for.**

**After hiding bodies, hiding evidence is the second best skill.**

**Sorry, most of my sense of humor revolves around corpses. I’ll try to restrain myself.**

_Thanks._

_You know what, at this point I won’t even question how many illegal things have you done. The less I know, the less I can say when they inevitably come knocking on my door with questions._

**Ha!**

**I knew I like you for a reason.**

**Okay, incredibly enough, it’s me who has to go now, for alas, my humble job for now is pizza delivery. Though I’m sure you could couple that with assassin work if you really wanted to.**

**Murder Pizza: coming to the theatres near you in 2021.**

**Starring me, myself and I.**

**Except not because I would make for a terrible actor.**

**Later, Petey!**

_Later, Wade. Good luck._

***

12/03, 00:14

**Why don’t people tip pizza deliverers? Jeez, guys, we’re people too, we need money.**

_Do they not?? Idk, I’ve been raised to always tip, because it’s the appropriate thing to do and all that._

**Well, yeah, should be. But clearly my delivery skills ain’t good enough for them. Or something else. Probably something else.**

**But oh well, at least I get payed.**

_Some people are just asses I guess._

_Father always says that if someone doesn’t tip a waiter or a deliverer, you should probably be cautious around them. Cuz like, look at how people treat other people before they get around treating you the same way if that makes sense._

**Yeah, that’s good advice. Your father sounds nice.**

_Yeah, he is._

_What about your family?_

_Am I gonna regret asking that?_

_Sorry._

_Wade?_

**No yeah I’m here.**

**Does our friendship have a ‘not answering a given question’ clause? Can I invoke it?**

**…Do we have a friendship?**

_You beat me by one second._

_Joking._

_Yes._

**To which question?**

_All of them._

**Aw, Petey, I knew I like you for a reason.**

_That’s the second time you say that._

**You remember my words, I’m touched. Also, maybe I just like you a lot.**

**Anyways, what’s a time like you doing up at a kid like this? Go to bed.**

_Wade, it’s barely midnight and it’s Sunday tomorrow. I think I can afford staying up a little longer. Also, we literally met by having a conversation at two am._

**Well, I didn’t really care about your wellbeing back then did I :p**

**Also, I had a joke to tell**

**Don’t worry, I’ll wake you up if I come up with another one**

_My phone is firmly on mute._

**You Gen Z kids and the mute button smh**

_Says the barely-millennial. You guys ruined the fabric softener industry, did you know that?_

**Oh my god don’t get me started on fabric softener. What’s the POINT??**

**What’s the point in washing clothes anyways**

_Ew._

**I’m joking, I’m joking. Al will maul me if I don’t wash my shit. Besides, she has some good tips.**

**Did you know that seltzer water and lemon is the best way to wash off blood?**

**Not that it comes in handy often.**

**Too often.**

_Okay, that’s enough of that for tonight. Goodnight, Wade._

**Night, Petey!**

***

12/05, 17:19

_Dad was brooding today (some work shit, he rarely tells us the details), so I told him the fly joke and he spent like three minutes laughing, and my conclusion is that your sense of humour is about as terrible as his, which says an awful lot if you must know._

**Wow, this is the first time you text me of your own accord and all you do is insult my sense of humour. I am hurt and betrayed.**

_Dad jokes and death jokes, Wade. That’s all your sense of humour is._

**That sounds like a great slogan for a movie.**

**Remember Murder Pizza? That’s happening now.**

**This will be the best film of the century.**

**You’re officially invited to the premiere as my artistic inspiration.**

_I am… flattered?_

**You better be. Anyways, how many mice does it take to screw in a lightbulb?**

_I dunno, how many?_

**Two, but it’s crammed.**

_Oh my god Wade._

_I gotta go find dad, he’ll love it._

**Good to know your parents approve of me ;)**

_B y e_

***

02/15, 19:43

_When your own dad encourages you to get wasted on your eighteenth birthday, you know there is something deeply wrong with your family._

_(Except there is nothing actually wrong with my family because it’s great)_

_Basically dad suggested I have a house party and offered to buy us drinks. Father is complaining, but when is he not :p_

_It doesn’t really help that I have like, what, three friends though, one of whom I can’t even invite because you don’t know my address and also letting basically strangers into your house is sort of creepy, and the other two are massive nerds._

_Out of the massive nerds, one is a lightweight and the other one literally cannot get drunk, and I sometimes high key suspect she is a robot._

_Then again, which teenager will refuse alcohol? If I tell them I’m having a party they’ll be over in a heartbeat, and dad probably won’t even mind. But idk I’m not really a… massive party fan??_

_Anyways, I’m probably distracting you from work, I should go and ask Ned and MJ what they think. Bye!_

**B I R T H D A Y**

**WHEN IS YOUR BIRTHDAY? HOW COME I DIDN’T KNOW IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY? I’M DEEPLY OFFENDED, PETER**

**(18th, good to know)**

**Aw, you would invite me? Cute!**

**Also I’m sure you have more friends, you’re cool, you should.**

**Anyways, if you’re not a party kid, just invite your nerd buddies over and get drunk with them and play party games. Probably more enjoyable anyhow. Massive parties get out of control easily.**

**Not that I know much about that, last time I’ve been to a party was like a year ago.**

**Actually no, I’ve been to a bar on Halloween, but that’s not a house party, it doesn’t count.**

_Yeah, 18. Exciting. In Europe I could even legally drink now (well, tomorrow)._

_Then again, the only time I’ve been to Europe was like three years ago, when we went on a family vacation to Germany, and my parents got into a massive fight in the middle of the airport and almost got divorced the next day. We laugh about it now, but back then it was… not great._

_Anyways, that was a tangent. Maybe you’re right, we can probably have fun with just the three of us. Also, I appreciate your faith in me, but we’re sorta too nerdy even for a science school. Not to say people don’t try being friends with me for materialistic reason (long story), but it usually doesn’t work out very well. Ned and Michelle are awesome though. And again, I’ve known Ned since before… things, and MJ doesn’t care._

Since before things? 

_Yeah. Long story. I’d rather not._

**Acknowledged.**

**Then hell yeah, just hang out with the two of them and tell the materialistic assholes to go fuck themselves. Besides, with two friends you get to be much less worried about doing something embarrassing while drunk, and trust me, Pete, you DON’T wanna worry about that lmao**

_Oh please, MJ will threaten me with blackmail for three years._

_(She’ll never actually do anything, it’s just how our friendship works)._

_But thanks for the grown-up advice! I might just opt for that :)_

_Bye, I’ll go tell dad!_

**Bye!**

***  
02/16, 00:00

**H A P P Y B I R T H D A Y ! ! ! (Assuming you’re in the NY time zone? I’m looking at the area codes here. Anyways). HAPPY BIRTHDAY PETEY-PIE! I WISH YOU THE BEST 18TH BECAUSE BEING 18 IS USUALLY PRETTY COOL (unless you’re me) AND YOU WILL HAVE THE BEST TIME I’M SURE. GOOD LUCK IN THE NERD SCHOOL AND WITH ALL THE TESTS, YOU’LL SMASH IT. GET YOURSELF SOME MORE FRIENDS WHO WILL NOT BE MATERIALISTIC ASSHOLES BECAUSE YOUR PERSONALITY IS GREAT. STAY HEALTHY AND HAPPY AND WHATEVER ELSE YOU WEIRD GEN Z KIDS NEED FOR A PRODUCTIVE LIFE YOU WEIRDOS. GET INTO THE BEST COLLEGE BECAUSE YOU CARE ABOUT THAT SHIT. HAVE A GREAT DAY TODAY TOO BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT AND ALSO GET YOUR DAD TO BUY YOU THE BIGGEST CAKE HE CAN FIND BECAUSE CAKE IS GREAT AND THE ONLY FOOD GREATER THAN CAKE ARE CHIMICHANGAS. ANYWAYS HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!**

_Wow._

_I might just have to tell Ned that no, he wasn’t the first one to wish me happy birthday today, because he sent his like a second after you did._

_He’ll be pretty upset, that’s the first time someone broke his streak in seven years._

_Uh._

_Wow._

_I don’t usually get paragraphs of text from people I’ve never met in real life wishing me a happy birthday, and they aren’t usually anywhere near this nice even if I do, and they aren’t ever at 12 am on the dot._

_Thank you so much, Wade. I appreciate that a lot. Really._

_I’m screenshotting this and re-reading this forever because wow that’s actually so sweet I can’t even._

_Thank you._

_Again._

_(What the hell are chimichangas?)_

**You don’t know what chimichangas are? That’s unacceptable. You live in New York. (I assume?) There are places which sell them. Go and find one. Right now.**

**Also you’re welcome I guess?? You deserve all them good wishes.**

_It’s twelve am, Wade. Also I don’t know what places are good anyways, or work 24/7, so if I sneak out and not find anything decent, it will be a complete and utter waste of the first few hours of my eighteenth._

_But I mean. If we ever meet you can take me to one._

**What?**

_What?_

**No, nothing.**

**I just.**

**Maybe not.**

**Sorry.**

**What’s that clause about not answering a question? I invoke it.**

**Anyways.**

**You might have to sleep if you’re planning to party tonight, if only with two people, so maybe do that.**

**Goodnight, Peter.**

**Happy birthday again.**

_Oh um okay. Sorry? Thanks again. Night!_

***

02/16, 22:48

_Hiiiiiiiiii_

**Hello!**

**You haven’t texted me all day, I was worried. Birthday business? How’s that going?**

_Great thx its going great_

_We got a cake its s nice cake its very sweet_

_I amean also I thought u were mad at mr or something bc like you don’t want to meet me but idk_

**Oh my god Peter you’re drunk.**

_Wow captain obvious in eprson thank u Wade I didnt know_

_MJ is trying to get my phone bc I should socialize anf not talk to strangers through text aparently which is probably true I mean but like_

**1) I’m not mad at you, it’s personal shit, so please don’t be upset. 2) MJ is probably right, it usually is true in the morning that the less drunken texts you have sent the better. You don’t wanna start texting your exes either.**

_I onlu have two exes so its fiiiine_

_One is nice her name is Liz but she moved & I dpnt have her new number so _

_And the other one is a piece of hsit and I wont ever text him because he was an ass >.>_

**Uh.**

**Why?**

_Bc I’m p sure he only wanted to get close to my dad bc dad’s a businesdman and like. Business. And he didn’t actually care about me_

_My ex htat is, I think my dad cares about me_

**Yeah, I’m sure he does, but for now, put your phone down, Pete. I don’t know if it’s a secret or not, but drunkenly coming out to people also isn’t very fun in the mornings.**

**Not that I care!**

**I mean I’m pan so why would I care.**

**But coming out is probably a thing you’d rather do sober, so here’s some more grown-up advice to you.**

_Ohhhhhhh advice advice is good_

_Im gonna turn off my phone and do shots with Ned now so byeeeeee_

**Oh my god.**

**I’m screenshotting /this/ if anything.**

**Have fun!**

**Greasy food is good for hangovers by the way :p**

***

02/17, 11:23

_Oh god._

_1) Please don’t screenshot it drinking at 18 is probably illegal, 2) Coming out is DEFINITELY a thing you should do while sober (but I’m bi, so now you know), 3) I am so sorry for bothering you at night, 4) I’m eating the most oily fries ever and my father is shaking his head disapprovingly, 5) MJ hasn’t even gotten past the tipsy stage the entire night it’s unfair, 6) I’m not upset you are completely allowed to not wanna meet me I’m sorry for asking!! 7) Okay I think that’s it haha good morning Wade :’)_

**Morning, Pete!**

**Fine, I shall not keep blackmail info, I’m nice like that :p Also good to know! And you didn’t bother me. Also tell your father you are a young adult and you gotta have experiences, and besides he can wait until you’re no longer hungover before scolding you because a scolding when your head hurts like a bitch is the worst. MJ sounds fun, and it’s fine, and good morning again :)**

_Okay, cool, we’re cool! Thanks ^_^_

_I probably won’t be texting much today by the way, I’ll just mope around and sleep because... yes. My head hurts like a bitch. Good start to being eighteen :p_

**A worthy initiation. Have a good day, Pete!**

_Thanks :)_

***

03/01, 19:21

_Wow, Ned suddenly has a lot of interest in our conversations for some reason lmao_

_Well, for a particular reason according to him. Apparently I never used to text in lessons, which is a lie, for the record! But anyways. Basically my physics teacher caught me talking to you in first period which is why I’ve disappeared – he took my phone and gave me detention. Which is also entirely unfair because if anything, I could teach that class about electric fields! Do you even know who I live with?_

_Anyways apparently my background knowledge is no excuse and I’ve come out of detention and parents will be furious_

_Which led me to deciding to hang out with Ned to promote the inevitable, which THEN led Ned to question “who the hell are you texting SERIOUSLY Peter it’s been how long now” and yeah long story short Ned is now convinced I am hanging out with maniacs on a daily basis. MJ was walking home with us as he was interrogating me, and she didn’t say anything, but MJ has wicked face expressions so I’m pretty sure she is judging me OR is getting her daily dose of entertainment from my suffering. Or both._

_And I don’t know if I have a point with this or not, most likely not, but I just wanted to tell you haha. I’m going home now to be scolded by parents (“Peter, how could you, be more responsible!” and/or “Listen, kid, we both know you’re a genius, but you gotta at least pretend to play by the rules!”), so I’ll talk to you later!_

**Oh, hi Pete, bye Pete, sorry, I was talking with Al. Good luck with parents. Tell Ned and MJ that I ain’t no maniac, they don’t need to worry about me kidnapping and murdering you or whatever. I just make 1) shitty jokes and 2) your life harder.**

_You sound like you’re in a bad mood. Are you in a bad mood?_

**I’m tired and haven’t gotten enough sleep, but that’s a usual state. Your parents finished yelling at you yet?**

_Nah, I’m texting under the table. Father is ranting about responsibilities. (Not the first time, not the last either probably because responsibility is really not one of my virtues). Dad noticed, but he doesn’t really care (I think he is betting against himself about how long it’ll take father to realise). Don’t avoid my question, though, Wade, what’s up?_

**Nothing is honestly up, I’m just tired. My head hurts. All that jazz. I dunno.**

**Basically I guess I had a half-fight with Al just now, which doesn’t even mean anything because we are at each other’s throats all the time, it’s out conversation style, but I mean. I know I am annoying. She doesn’t need to throw that in my face.**

**It’s not even the worst insult, you know? People call me annoying all the time. I call myself annoying all the time. Because I am. Like. Facts, hello. I got you in detention today because I was being annoying.**

**But it’s just, I’m sorta close to her, closer than to most other people – I don’t know many other people per say, I don’t go out much – so when it comes from her it tends to hit a little closer to home, you know? Which, again, is freaking stupid, because this isn’t the first and is certainly not going to be the last time we’ve argued.**

**Sorry, by the way, I’m probably distracting you from your father’s righteous rants with my whining lmao**

**But yeah. So now my head sort of hurts and I’m sitting on the porch demonstratively and at least the weather is nice I swear to god.**

**Anyways, want to hear another stupid lightbulb joke?**

_Father gave up and asked me if I was “busy texting a girl or something”. Dad smacked him and told him that it’s bisexuality erasure (as a joke, of course, father’s very, very bi). I escaped while they were bickering, and that’s the preface. Regardless of whatever’s happening in my house… define annoying for me. Because like, sure, you’re annoying in that you talk a lot, and you make vulgar jokes sometimes, and whatever, but that’s not a bad thing. I’m annoying in that I ramble and get overly enthusiastic about everything and make big deal out of nothing way more than I should. We’re all annoying in some way, more to some people than to others. But I mean, you know what’s a synonym for that? Personality traits. It’s like, congrats, you have a personality, one some people might not like, but at least you have it! You’re loud and you talk a lot and like, isn’t that what makes you, well, you? (Besides, some people might think it’s cool. I think it’s cool. I wish I was as outgoing as you). Also, like, you do actually care if I tell you I don’t want to talk about something, which is actually very nice and cool of you and. Yeah._

_Did I have a point with this? Maybe at the beginning. (Also, you didn’t get me into detention per say, I would probably still be on my phone even if I didn’t have you to talk to, although it would be much more boring. Again, electric fields? Not that hard)._

_See what I mean about my rambling? I’m the annoying one here, I swear. Sorry._

_Also, yes, I want to hear a lightbulb joke._

**…Christ, Petey-pie. Give me all the emotional speeches at like eight pm when my brain is barely working, why don’t you. How did the hipster burn his hand?**

_Uh. How?_

**He changed the lightbulb before it was cool.**

**Al’s calling, so I better go back in.**

***

03/01, 23:57

**Thank you, by the way. For the emotional speech and all. I’m… yeah. Sweet dreams, Peter.**

_Good night, Wade! :D_

***

03/05, 03:28

_I think I set my oven on fire._

**1) This feels like a sort of text I would send at 3 am, not you, and 2) h o w**

_I was making cookies and I dozed off. Now I woke up and there is fire in the oven._

**AND YOU ARE TEXTING ME INSTEAD OF GETTING A FIRE EXTINGUISHER OR A RESPONSIBLE ADULT WHY?!**

_I don’t know, honestly, that’s probably a good idea_

_Let me go wake dad_

_Where do we even keep fire extinguishers…_

**Text me once you’ve dealt with the fire I guess??**

**Peter, you there?**

**Pete?**

**You haven’t burned down your house, have you?**

**I am slightly concerned.**

_It’s been like fifteen minutes, Wade, the house wouldn’t have had time to burn down. I was just being questioned. “Why were you making cookies at 3 am anyways” idk dad maybe I just felt like it!_

**Oh, you’re okay, good. I mean, you gotta admit, your dad’s,,, got a point. You really didn’t strike me as a sort of guy who deals with insomnia by cooking.**

_It’s not that I can’t sleep, it’s just that baking is relaxing. And distracting. Also, I can usually make pretty good cookies, provided I don’t fall asleep halfway through xD_

**Fair.**

**Sooo what have you been trying to distract yourself from? Stress? School problems? That Flash kid being annoying again? Want me to find him and murder him?**

_Nah. I mean, Flash is always annoying, but it hasn’t been anything out of the norm, so please Don’t do that._

**Had an argument with a friend?**

_It’s nothing serious, honestly, Wade, don’t worry. I was literally mostly just bored of watching conspiracy theories on YouTube._

**Romantic troubles?**

_And would you look at that, dad is telling me to go to bed now._

_Goodnight! I’ll speak to you tomorrow!_

**Oh, it so is romantic troubles!**

_G o o d n i g h t._

***

03/05, 10:13

**So are you in class or can I continue questioning you now?**

_I am at break rn, but please do not do that. I’ve had enough questioning for the next month from father in the morning._

**YEAH NO SHIT. YOU SET HIS OVEN ON FIRE AT 3 AM BECAUSE YOU WERE BAKING COOKIES TO DISTRACT YOURSELF FROM SOME STUFF ABOUT LOVE, I WOULD QUESTION TOO.**

**I am, in fact, questioning.**

_I noticed :p_

_Also, it isn’t, like, about love._

_Love is a big word. I’m eighteen. The worst I get is like… crushes._

_Anyways, bye._

**No no no no no, you don’t get to say that and just walk away! Do you want curiosity to murder, Peter? Do you want to be responsible for my passing which will inevitably happen if you don’t tell me?**

**It’s not like I know your friends anyways! Just two and just by names. Is it Ned? Or MJ? Or someone else? Classmate? Teacher? Friend outside of school?**

_All my teachers are like forty. Gross._

**Fine, not teacher then. Boy? Girl? Neither?**

**Tell meeeeee!**

**Peter!**

**Come on! :PPP**

_Wade, please._

_It’s not even_

_It’s not a kind of thing I would want to like_

_well_

_confess over text anyways._

_Because that would be dumb._

_Not to say I’m not._

_Because I am._

_Yeah._

_Listen, I know we talked about this before, and you said no, and it’s cool if you still stand by it, but like_

_wanna meet up? Maybe? I assume you live in NYC. Area codes and all._

_Wade?_

_It’s fine if you don’t, just like… tell me._

_You here?_

**Peter.**

**Bad idea.**

_I was making cookies at 3 am this morning, do I strike you as one for good ideas?_

**No, I’m not being playful right now. This is serious. Bad idea.**

**You are eighteen.**

_And you’re twenty! It’s not like there is some massive age difference or something!_

_My dad is fourteen years older than my father, and look at them!_

**You are eighteen, and you do not need any of my bullshit in your life.**

_1) It’s not like we aren’t already talking so this point just makes no sense, and 2), maybe let me decide what I do or do not need in my life?! I think I am allowed to choose!_

_Eighteen is old enough to be legally allowed to do a lot of things, and I’m not a child anymore either!_

_And if you don’t want to meet me, fine, don’t, it’s fine, I get it, just don’t tell me it’s because you think you know what’s best for me, because you don’t!_

**You tell me you’re not a kid and you proceed to act like one, Peter.**

_I’m not acting like a kid! I’m just_

_Let me make my own choices, you know. I think I deserve that._

**Fine. Take it as me being selfish then. Because I like this thing we have, I really like it, Peter. Getting to talk to you is… wonderful. I never had many good things in my life, but this is one of them. And I don’t want to ruin it.**

_Why would us meeting up do that?! It might be a little awkward at first, but it’s not like you don’t know me better than most of the people in my life! And vice versa, I would suspect! We have things to talk about, Wade!_

**I’m not arguing against that. We do.**

**There are reasons beyond awkwardness, Peter.**

_Well what are they?! Tell me, I want to know!_

_Do you just not like me?_

_Or do you think I’m shallow enough to care about appearances or whatever?_

_Or do you think I’m secretly some sort of 50 year old creep, or what, I don’t fucking know!_

**I like you a lot, and I don’t think you’re shallow, and I definitely don’t think you’re a creep, but that doesn’t cover it.**

**Just drop it, Peter.**

_Fine._

_Whatever._

_I have class now. Bye._

**Bye.**

***

03/05, 16:01

The class was dismissed at the sound of the bell around a minute ago, and most students were already hurrying out of the room, eager to get home, but Peter took a few moments to groan quietly to himself, leaning back on his chair. He swiped his books into the bag reluctantly, zipping it up and throwing it over one shoulder, and forced himself to get up.

“So do we get to know what’s up, sunshine boy?” Michelle grinned, approaching from behind and making Peter flinch. “You weren’t on your phone the whole lesson, consider me impressed.”

Ned giggled, joining the two of them at the back of the class. Peter flipped them off half-heartedly. 

“I set our oven on fire at night,” he tried. “Decided to make cookies and fell asleep.”

Ned snorted. 

“Only you, man. But that doesn’t explain why are you suddenly not spending every waking hour texting your serial killer buddy.”

“I do not text him every waking hour!” Peter complained, stretching. “And he’s not a serial killer. And maybe my phone is just out of battery.”

“You were looking at the time a moment ago,” the girl deadpanned. “Oh whatever, Ned, leave him to his teenage drama. You walking home with us or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter sighed. “Thanks, MJ. I can feel the love.” 

They left the school a few minutes after, chatting aimlessly about videogames and Lego and the upcoming academic decathlon competition, and before they knew it, they were already at the street crossing. Ned’s house was a few bus stops from here, Michelle preferred walking home by a route only she knew and humming along to music even if it took her almost an hour every day, and Peter could see the Stark Tower from here, tall and, in his father’s words, “inexcusably ugly” (dad sulked for a good few hours after he said that). 

“See you tomorrow, then,” Ned waved cheerfully, approaching the bus stop. Michelle saluted, already trying to untangle her earphones. Peter sighed quietly but smiled at the two of them (“Bye guys!”), and then off they went their separate ways. It was like most days, but most days it was fine, Peter thought – most days, he wasn’t in a fight with Wade.

Were they even in a fight? Does it count as a fight when you indirectly admit to someone you like them and then they straight up tell you they don’t want to see you? It sounded like rejection, not a fight, if anything, but Peter was really trying not to think about that. Whatever.

The weather wasn’t great either – cold wind and dark clouds, although thankfully not raining just yet – which really didn’t help trying to feel better. So Peter just kicked a rock down the sidewalk and even across a few roads, pretending he isn’t sulking, because he is a grown-up, thank you very much, and so is Wade, and Wade has all the rights to do, or not do, whatever he wants. 

And Peter probably was taught as a kid to look left and right while crossing a road, who wasn’t; but you don’t really care about that when you are pretending not to sulk.

So–

Ouch. 

One moment he was up on his feet, following the rock he was kicking, and then there was a screech of tires and he was suddenly on his side, his right leg and elbow scraping across the rough surface of the road. The pain was immediate but not unbearable, yet he couldn’t help but yelp at the unexpectedness of it all, and then again, a moment later, as he saw his now ripped trousers and sweater soak with blood seeping out of the deep scrapes. Shit! If he needed anything else to make this a horrible day, goddammit–!

“Oh fuck– Christ on a popsicle, dude, watch where you’re – are you okay? Can you hear me?! Can you get up? Crap, are you concussed, or–“

“I’m fine,” Peter groaned, attempting to sit up and rubbing his head violently, hissing at the pain in his elbow. “Not-not concussed, I don’t think, just… ouch.”

He threw a quick gaze towards the stranger talking. It was the man who hit him, tall and dressed in a bright red shirt, his helmet still on, his bike now lying as if pushed over carelessly on the road.

“Fuck,” the stranger repeated, approaching him. “Oh god, and you’re bleeding, can you walk? What am I asking, clearly not… here’s a hospital, what, five blocks down, I can get you there…”

“I can walk!” Peter protested, getting up and immediately hissing at the pain in his leg. The strange offered him a scoff, muted by the helmet, which was a mix of sarcastic and worried:

“Yeah, I can see that. C’mon, I’ll drive you, it’s not far.”

He lifted his bike, then looked around and growled quietly to himself. 

“Always have two motorcycle helmets with you, they said…” he mumbled. “You may have to make do with mine, kid, sorry for that.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s fine, I don’t need one!” Peter shook his head quickly. “I don’t wanna inconvenience you!”

“I almost fucking ran you over, I’m not putting you in more danger,” the man deadpanned, then shaking his head. “Goddammit. Here, just get on.”

He pulled off his helmet and chucked it towards Peter. The boy caught it almost automatically – if anything, his reflexes were usually good – but barely registered his own actions, looking at the stranger’s face. It was… well. Peter had seen burns before, and Peter had gotten burns before, usually on his hands or arms trying to help dad in the workshop, but the ones he saw or had were never quite as serious as this. The man’s face and neck were covered with rough, badly healed scars and deep bumps, and yeah, they were burns, but they were beyond anything Peter ever expected burns to be. 

After a moment’s silence, the man smirked wryly with thin lips.

“Don’t worry, I’m not contagious. Just ugly as a baboon’s ass.”

“No, that’s not what I–“ Peter protested, blushing bright red as he realised he has been staring, but the stranger interrupted with an ironic wave, swiftly getting up on the motorcycle:

“Don’t worry. People usually ask me which freak show is in town, so you ain’t the worst I’ve had. Just get on. You’re still bleeding.”

Yeah, Peter thought, he should be a little more concerned about that. He sighed quietly and got on the motorcycle, holding onto the saddle. The stranger started it up.

“Sorry, for the record,” the boy said after a moment, because they were swerving past cars, but were still nowhere near going fast enough to not be able to hear each other’s words. It’s Manhattan, there’s always traffic. “For staring. If I made you uncomfortable.”

“Kid, I literally hit you with a motorcycle,” the man chuckled. “I think there is a certain limit now up to which I am not allowed to be offended at anything you do. Besides, as I’ve said, used to it.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works, but sure,” Peter said doubtfully. “But also, I mean, the fact that you’re used to it doesn’t mean I should act like every other asshole out there.”

“You’re concerned enough over it to put you above most, believe me,” the man shrugged. “Especially considering that you’re still injured, Christ, your pain threshold must be absurdly high!”

“I’m really not hurt that bad! Just scraped a little, it’s nothing terrible!”

The stranger gave him an unconvinced snort and they both went quiet for a little longer, and in a few more minutes they parked in front of a small but neat hospital building. The man hopped off a bike and offered Peter his hand. He giggled and took it, stepping off too, and then laughed again at how surprised the stranger looked at the fact that he did. He took off the helmet and put it on the seat. 

“Well, let’s go get you checked out,” the man said, helping Peter walk up the stairs despite his protests of not being hurt enough to be almost carried. 

They entered. The stranger pointed Peter to the waiting area before walking off to talk to the man at the reception, and then joined him at the seats with an indignant scoff.

“’Wait a little’, they say. It’s not that I have a kid who’s bleeding out on me here.”

“I am not a kid, I’m eighteen, and I am not bleeding out!” Peter rolled his eyes. “See, it’s basically fine now! Barely hurts!”

He did regret poking the wound on his elbow a moment later, and the man snorted loudly at how his face scrunched up. 

“Yeah, right. Very convincing there.”

Peter stuck his tongue out and leaned back against the chair. 

They ended up waiting for a whole half an hour, which, for Peter, is honestly novel – usually showing up and telling them his surname was enough to get him to the nearest doctor without having to linger around. It was strangely charming though, watching people rush around, doctors and patients, and listening to the quiet song on an old radio. The stranger, as if he had nothing else to do, waited with him, and Peter was honestly not complaining – the man was great company. 

He made quips about half the people in the hall, anyone who caught his gaze, commented on the lack of fashion senses in modern-day New York and on how drained the doctors look, perfectly imitated a comic book villain after Peter mentioned offhandedly that he has a collection of comics at home, and tried to sing along to the radio before complimenting himself over his absolute failure to hit a single note. Peter found himself wondering among the laughs how old the man was. He wasn’t much older than Peter himself, didn’t sound or look like it, and when he caught one of boy’s curious gazes, raising one eyebrow, Peter had to ask.

“Twenty,” the man smirked in response. “Yeah, I know I look like an ancient creepy grandpa.”

“You absolutely do not,” the boy protested, giggling. That’s when the doctor called in the “kid who came with Wilson,” and the stranger nudged him:

“That would be you.”

And the injuries didn’t end up being severe at all in the end, thank you very much. The doctor cleaned up the scrapes and put some bandages on, instructed Peter to buy some sort of cream they probably had at home anyways because father has a stack of literally every type of medicine known to mankind, and sent him off on his merry way. Peter found himself strangely excited to see that the man – Wilson – has still stuck around to wait. 

“Hi,” he grinned, tapping him on the shoulder and distracting him from whatever message conversation he has been scrolling through on his phone. The man looked up and smirked quickly, hiding the phone in his pocket:

“Ah, the unfortunate victim of my careless driving. So?”

“I’m fine, just as I’ve said,” Peter rolled his eyes. “Some bandages and some medicine, and I’ll be brand new by tomorrow.” 

Wilson laughed, stretching a little and looking him up and down in search for anything that may potentially disprove the claim. 

“Well, if you accidentally discover a way to heal injuries overnight, do hit me up, I would appreciate it,” he winked, not finding anything to question further about and getting up to his feet. “Need a ride home?”

Peter paused for a moment. No, he didn’t need a ride home, he lived nearby, and getting someone to take him to the doors of Stark Tower would seem too much like showing off anyhow, so he wasn’t thinking about that, but…

Ah, to hell with it, why not.

“Nah, but thanks for the offer,” he grinned. “I live around the corner. And in regards to hitting you up, well, I may need your phone number for that.”

Peter thought that was pretty smooth. Usually he was the farthest thing from smooth, granted, but this wasn’t completely terrible! Probably. Well, okay, his idea of smooth came from crappy TV-shows and hanging out with losers, but that still didn’t warrant for the reaction of silent confusion which Wilson responded with. After another few seconds, Peter rocked on his feet awkwardly.

“Um. Okay then. Sorry. I’ll just… get going.”

“How bad’s your vision, kid?” Wilson interrupted. “I mean, I start thinkin’ you’re as blind as my landlord, what with the whole…” He gestured towards his face. Peter crossed his arms in indignation:

“People keep implying I’m shallow today for some reason. Also, unless they have minus two vision, I’m probably not. As blind, that is.”

Yup, there goes his ability to form coherent sentences. The man snorted and shook his head in something akin to disbelief before smirking:

“Well, why not, as long as you know what you’re signing up for. Name’s Wade for the record, and Al, the landlord, is blind as a bat, so no, you’re in the clear. Gimme your phone, I’ll type it in.”

And Peter actually, seriously, had time to open his backpack and start looking for his phone in it before the man’s words caught up with him. So much for being a supposed genius, Jesus Christ, and also what the hell was his entire life anyways? He blinked a few times, running over the last sentence in his mind, and then let the bag fall to the floor, groaning quietly. 

“Hey Wade?” he said, looking the man – the man who was _Wade_ , his Wade, holy _shit_ – right in the eyes. “How many absolute fucking morons does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

He could pinpoint down to a fraction of a second, when exactly did Wade realise what was happening. He looked confused first, frowning momentarily, before suddenly flinching backwards, eyes going wide. Peter offered him the most charming smile he could manage right now without literally starting to scream in the middle of a hospital waiting room, and the man shook his head once in something akin to shock before his lips hesitantly stretched out into a wide grin. He chuckled incredulously, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering something silently to himself, and then there was a glint in his eyes, and the grin was suddenly a smirk, and when he responded with, 

“A lightbulb might be a bit too small for that, Petey-pie, don’t you think?”

Peter couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://small-birdie.tumblr.com/), if you feel like hitting me up there! Hope you enjoyed reading this :D


End file.
